Nothing Else Mattered
by wizardingworldbookworm94
Summary: A sweet little one-shot about Hermione and Ron finding themselves after the War. A little sexy.    Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except this little plot. I wish!


Ron had been coming to Hermione's bed every night. He needed the comfort just as much as she did. He'd hold her or she'd hold him, and they'd sleep soundly knowing the other was safe. Knowing it was all over.

Today had been Fred's funeral. She'd hated seeing him like that. They'd all been trying to have a laugh, hoping to send Fred off "the way he'd have wanted it". Ron had plastered a smile on his face and told jokes, but she could see how much he was grieving, how close to breaking point.

She sat on the bed waiting for him. She'd relax when she knew he was okay. She didn't have to wait for long. She was supposed to be sharing the room with Ginny, but Ginny was with Harry. What Mrs Weasley didn't know couldn't hurt her.

When he apparated into the room with a loud pop she wasted no time in kissing him passionately. He broke off and hugged her. She held him close for what felt like minutes and then took his hand to lead him to the bed.

"We've had a long day," she murmered.

He wrapped himself around her, she nuzzled her back into his chest and their breathing began to slow. They were safe and warm.

"Night Hermione," he whispered into her.

"Good night, handsome," she smiled.

She waited for sleep to arrive. These nights with him had brought some of the deepest sleep she'd had in a long time. But something was off tonight.

She couldn't feel his muscles relaxing like they normally did when he drifted off. He must have been lying awake. She wished more than anything she could read his thoughts. What could she do to help?

"Hermione?" he whispered, afraid to wake her.

"Mmm?" she pulled his arm closer to her body. He didn't say anything.

She felt his lips press against her bare shoulder, the lightest touch. Then he did it again. He was inviting her to say something, to do something. Otherwise, he'd stop. It was all up to her.

She didn't need telling twice. She had been trying to be respectful, waiting for him to feel ready. But all she'd been thinking lately was how much she wanted to be with him. She turned towards him, ran her fingers up his arm and shoulder, eventually reaching his chin. Then she kissed him.

At first they were both tentative, slightly unsure of how to proceed. Waiting long enough, she deepened the kiss and was excited at the groan that escaped his lips. He moved to be more comfortable, resting his weight on her and dipping his head to meet her mouth. Then he moved his head away. She was about to protest against him moving when she felt his feather-light lips on her neck.

"Ron" she breathed. Her neck felt so sensitive. Her body was warming incredibly fast and tendrils of heat were shooting through her abdomen. But, she wasn't so far gone yet. The doubts began to surface.

This was the first time for both of them and she wanted it to be perfect. Was this the way? When life was barely back to normal? When they'd lost so many people? Would they regret what they'd done after the passion of the grief?

She placed on his chest and pushed lightly. He immediately pulled back as she knew he would.

"Are you okay?" he asked, she could hear his voice filled with concern.

"Yes," she felt so confused. She stroked his arm, she didn't want him to feel like he was doing the wrong thing. "I mean, I don't know..."

"Hermione," he cut her off, "if you're not ready, we don't have to go any further. I love you and I want you to be my first but I can wait. I've waited 7 years to be with you, I wait a little longer to make love to you." He kissed her once more in reassurance, then moved off her and held her again.

She was soothed by his words. This wasn't just about grief, or his emotions being raw, this was about him and her. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

Wordlessly, she moved away from him and stood up. She felt him prop himself up, wondering what he had done wrong. She grabbed her wand of the nightstand and conjured up some jars. She then performed her favourite incantation, the one that caused the little balls of fire to illuminate the jars. She placed them around the room.

She looked back at him then. The room was now bathed in a soft glow and she could see the face she knew so well, he was mesmerised with her. The newfound power she felt was glorious. She began to unbutton the buttons on her white nightie. She saw her eyes darken as she reached the last one, slipping out of the soft material. She was now exposed from the waist up, he had never seen her like this before. She was surprised to realise that she didn't feel vulnerable at all.

On the contrary, she wanted to drive him crazy because of the way his gaze was making her feel. She padded over to the bed and lay on top of him, hungrily kissing his lips this time. She felt his body respond to her, she loved kissing away his pain. She ran her fingers over his chest, noting his cheekiness at coming to her bed shirtless. He reacted with more desperate kisses and flipped her onto her back. He looked at her then, taking in her body.

"You're so beautiful," he said firmly. He then placed a hand on her stomach and leaned in once more. She couldn't believe the intense wave of heat that formed under his hand. That was until it moved up to her breast and began to massage it tenderly. She moaned.

Then his hand moved and he sat up. She didn't think she could take it if he decided to stop now. But he wasn't stopping. He was hooking his fingers in the elastic of her underwear and sliding them smoothly down her legs.

She felt dizzy. It was Ron. How could the boy she had known for so long become a sexy man without her noticing?

He moved to kiss her then. She returned the favour generously. Once again, his hand slid downwards. Only this time it wasn't stopping at her breast or her stomach, it just kept going. He began to trace circles on her thigh and she couldn't breathe. Then it found its way into the most intimate of places, and began to rub her gently.

She cried out in surprise and pleasure. He silenced her with a kiss. She attempted to recollect herself as she pictured the embarrassment of being caught in the act at The Burrow, but she was feeling heady and he just wouldn't stop touching her.

"Oh, Ron. Please Ron," she murmured.

She wanted him to stop. She wanted to be the one giving him pleasure, comforting him. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him so and meanwhile, his strokes were only getting stronger. She was losing control now, noises erupting from her as he kissed her fervently.

He was so perfect. There could never be anyone else. She loved him more than anything. The pleasure began to build more and more, and she orgasmed. Crying out his name, almost in tears.

He kissed her chest as she caught her breath. Her brain began to function again and she had only one purpose in mind. She pulled the drawstring on his pyjama pants and pushed them down. Touching him lovingly, hearing him choke back noises of pleasure made her begin to heat up again. She guided him slowly into to her.

He watched her face avidly. He didn't want to give her any pain at all.

She grabbed his chin, "It's okay, I'm okay."

Truthfully, it did hurt a little. But the pain was nothing in comparison to the beauty of having him inside of her, filling her entire body with a tingling sensation. Ever so slowly, he began to move. She moaned when he moved. She was surprised at how wonderful it felt. Nothing could compare to the feeling of giving him pleasure.

He shifted backwards and stopped his steady rhythm for a moment. She sat up a little and pushed him back until he was sitting, she then positioned herself on his lap. She began to enforce the rhythm, holding him tightly and kissing his neck.

She could feel how close he was and quickened her pace, she wanted to give him everything he had given her. But he was attempting to control himself, holding himself back from climaxing. She began to become frustrated. Why wouldn't he let her do this for him?

Then she realised. He was waiting for her to feel it too. He would always take care of her before himself. She couldn't believe how good he was.

Then it did begin to work, the familiar waves of pleasure were building in her stomach and groin. The involuntary sounds had started again, she never wanted this to end. But then it did end, and it was the most magnificent ending. Almost simultaneously, they both began to shake uncontrollably. Their bodies seemed to form one as the pleasure exploded in them both.

"Hermione," he groaned. Her name had never sounded so beautiful to her before.

They held each other for a little longer before releasing from the embrace. She lay her back down on the bed, and motioned for him to rest his head on her chest. He did, winding his arm around her waist while she stroked his hair.

"By the way," she said, "I love you too."

He kissed the rise of her breasts in response and began to feel her chest shake silently. He looked up to find tears running down her face.

"Hermione, I'm so sor-"

"Don't be," she interrupted, "it's just so perfect. You are so perfect."

He lay back down feeling comfort that he was able to make her so happy.

She thought about the man she loved. He was no longer the boy that had left her and Harry out of fear and spite in the woods. He was the man who had held her all night after the day Bellatrix tortured her. His maturity and protective nature was astounding her.

"You've given me my life back, beautiful. I never want to stop being with you." Ron admitted.

She closed his eyes when she heard him say that, grateful that she could take any of his pain away.

"Besides," he continued sleepily, "you're a fantastic shag."

Ah, perhaps he wasn't so mature after all.

She smiled then, "go to sleep, you loser."


End file.
